Broken Little Angel
by BertLover
Summary: Hunger Games-Glee Fusion: Kurt had always promised Blaine that neither would ever be chosen. But the 56th Hunger Games say ohterwise. Will they survive when one is thrust into a deadly and corrupt world, or will the Capital win once more?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hi... *says bashfully* So this is my first foray into the Glee Fanfiction world. And I honestly have no idea what you guys will think of this. Oh, and my Criminal Minds fanfic will be finished, all in due time. I'm kind of having writer's block, and can't find a way to end the story.**

**Anyways, I am obsessed with Glee, Darren Criss, and all things Klaine. I have been reading Glee fics for a while now and had sudden inspiration for this one. Again, NO idea if it will be received well. So, if I don't get any feedback telling me I should continue this, I won't so please just show me SOMETHING if you even remotely like this... PLEASE?**

**Well, here's the deal- I have just singlehandedly created a Hunger Games/Glee Fusion Fic. I love AU's, and have recently found the best story on the earth, Solar Winds. Seriously. BEST FRIGGIN THING EVER. So I thought, hey, maybe I could dabble in fusion fics as well. And voila, here tis this, le masterpiece o mine. So this one is where the Glee characters live in District 12. It's Klaine centric of course. Blaine was originally from the Seam, but now lives with Kurt and his family in town. It is the 56th Hunger Games, and all the Gleeks are eligible. If anyone is confused, message me or leave a review. Thanks for clicking, hope you enjoy! :P**

**Disclaimer- I swear, I OWN NOTHIN! NO glee, no Hunger games, nothin.**

* * *

**Chapter 1**

"Shhhh, shush, quiet, everything's okay, everything is **fine**, you'll be okay, just calm down," Kurt's voice cracks on that last word, his composure as well. Blaine still won't wake up from that damn nightmare, no matter how hard Kurt tried. The oblivious lamenting that continued from Blaine only worsened Kurt's mood- he didn't know how to stop these memories, and he felt so helpless.

Kurt was sitting in his bed, cradling his boyfriend head in his lap as the boy continued thrashing and occasionally screaming nonsense words and unintelligible phrases.

"Sh- nonononono, just quiet- please, Bl- I-I-please-" HIs voice trembled from exhaustion or grief, he honestly didn't know what. His arm was aching- he'd been stroking Blaine's hair for the last hour; his eyes drooped even as those heart wrenching wails tumbled out from Blaine's lips; his entire leg had fallen asleep due to the awkward position he was in.

Blaine couldn't be woken when he was like this- he was like a prisoner in his own mind. Kurt would just have to wait it out...

Minutes later, Kurt glanced up from Blaine, whose nightmare was finally slipping- those sobs had reduced to whimpers, the yelling to mumbles. Kurt sighted and rubbed his forehead.

They were splayed on his bed in his small candle-lit bedroom. The flickering light from the lamps on the wall was giving Kurt a serious headache, but he pushed down the urge to wake up Carole to ask for some herbal tea. She had always known what to use to make people feel better, and had opened a small apothecary in town years ago. _Dad is probably still down there, unloading the new shipment of CAPITAL APPROVED meds, _he thinks to himself. Ever since last year, when the peacekeepers had raided their small community looking for "means of defiance" as they'd put it, and found the herbs Carole used for brewing her healing draughts, they'd made sure to send them simple capital medicine (as well as keep a close eye on the lowly family they apparently now considered a threat) and it always arrived here late at night, around midnight. Burt had taken up the burden of unloading the crates left on their doorstep every Friday night, and stocking the shelves until nearly 3 AM each time.

Kurt looked back to the trembling body in his arms. He'd met Blaine five years before, known Blaine three years, had dated him for one-and-a-half, and had asked him to move in with them six months ago when Blaine's father had been killed in a tragic mining incident. He'd only witnessed these kinds of nightmares once before, and back then he'd had Blaine's dad to keep him sane throughout the long hard night. But now he had no one to help him, and he hated feeling so feeble and dependent, but all he wanted was a little help. However, he'd somehow convinced himself he could manage this, that he'd eventually find a way to deal with it on his own.

He'd known when they would happen, the exact date really. The only time such intense nightmares ravaged Blaine's sleep was the night before the reaping.

If he were Blaine, he'd be screaming, too. Kurt could only imagine what was running through the fragile boy's mind right now...

* * *

_12-year old Blaine Anderson of District 12 paused midway through his attempt at tying that stupid little bow thingy around his neck. His hands were shaking and his breath was coming out in short gasps. Is this what a panic attack feels like? Oh god, oh god, OH GOD-_

_"Hey, B, need some assistance little man?" His brother's voice mas like cool balm on his nerves and Blaine felt himself nodding fervently. _

_"Yes p-please," Blaine whispered, and he didn't think he could remember ever feeling so small, so docile. But as soon as Coop's hands gently took Blaine's away from the fabric, he felt the suffocating atmosphere rise away. Coop always made him feel better._

_"Look, B... I know this is your first year and all, but..." Cooper spun him around to face him, "but I need you to be brave for me, okay? Everything will be fine, I promise." _

_Blaine worried his lip between his teeth, and every terrifying thought that had been running through his very imaginative mind came rushing back with a jolt of reality. He realized that not even big, tough Coop could protect him from **this**._

_Cooper Anderson, age 18, who could read his baby brother like a book, immediately picked up on Blaine's somewhat adorable nervous tick. He patted Blaine's arm with what he hoped was reassurance. "I promise you, everything will be okay."_

_Blaine nodded, glancing around, before he redirected his gaze back to Cooper. "Y-you promise?" _God_, Blaine chided himself, _there was that annoying stutter of his, at the worst possible time_. He was trying to be brave, and in front of his perfect older brother for God's sake! _

_Cooper was everything Blaine had ever hoped to be- an incredibly handsome, tall, muscular, popular, fearless guy. Blaine could never even **hope** to live up to such standards- he was a scrawny, short, poodle-haired coward who stuttered and had an insanely long list of things he was incredibly-paralyzed-with-fear-and-a-sense-of-eminent-death by. _

_Cooper sighed and smoothed the lapels of Blaine's shirt. He felt for his little brother. Their mother had gotten sick in the last weeks of her pregnancy with Blaine, and had died shortly after childbirth. Blaine had been premature, and had a few problems because of this. His sleeping issues and that speech impediment were just the beginning. _

_Since that horrible night when his mother had passed, Cooper had vowed to protect the youngest Anderson, to try to ease the pain of their living hell._

_"Everything will be okay," Cooper smiled as he repeated his earlier sentiments, hoping to deplete Blaine's fright if just a little. _

_Blaine, obviously firing up that astonishingly strong mask of his, closed his eyes a moment, and then opened them once more. The transformation was incredible. The once skittish little boy was replaced with a young confident 12 year old. It made sense; Blaine was only ever truly vulnerable around his family._

_"Le-let's do this," Blaine said blankly, jumping up from his sagging bed and striding purposefully toward the door, stopping briefly to beckon Cooper. Cooper himself just sighed, stood up, and followed, praying a silent and quick prayer that he hadn't been lying..._

* * *

Kurt jumped involuntarily as when he heard the tell-tale creak of floorboards downstairs. Dad was home. And, of course (**why** must the heavens despise him so?), he arrived back from the shop right after his boyfriend's nightmares had subsided. The boy in question was currently tucked into himself, tense and curled up in fetal position, with his back pressed against Kurt's chest. Blaine's own was heaving occasionally with irregular gasps, the tremble in his body ever-present.

"Kurt?" the hesitant voice broke him from his reverie. His dad was leaning against the doorframe, gazing intently into the semi-darkness. Their eyes met, and Kurt saw the unasked question- _Everything okay?_

"Yeah. I think, now." Kurt answered somewhat bitterly. His dad, Burt just nodded, and stayed standing there, not knowing exactly what to do. Kurt had told him about Blaine's nightmares, and he was obviously struggling to not rush over and go all Dad on Blaine.

Kurt continued stroking Blaine's lengthy curls absentmindedly, listening to his ragged breathing. Burt left then, quietly, nodding slightly before walking to his own bedroom, leaving the two in silence. A comfortable silence, hours before the sun rose, hours before the day would begin, and start evoking terror among the people.

Well, if everything went right, by the end of the day Kurt would be curled up in his bed, stomach full from the night's feast, with his beloved boyfriend by his side. That was the tradition- once you were sure you weren't going to die for at least another year, you celebrate. Nearly the whole town participated- only a select two houses closed their shutters, locked their doors, and turned out their lights, possibly for good.

Because, sometimes, everything **did** go wrong…

* * *

_Blaine shook as he stood in the crowd. The reapings were always terrifying for him before- he didn't know what he would do if Cooper was chosen- but now he had** two** lives to worry about. He glanced around; he could see Cooper standing beside his girlfriend- a shy girl with a shock of red hair- and holding her hand like a life line, jaw set and eyes hard. Blaine gulped. _

_He looked behind him, into the crowd of people hovering like hawks behind the border set up by the Peacekeepers. He thought he could see his father there, but wasn't entirely sure._

_His schoolmates surrounded him in an encompassing mass of bodies. He never thought of himself as claustrophobic until now. He felt his lungs pause, his breath hitch, and crap, it was as if someone was -_

_He froze as someone grabbed his hand. He looked over. It was a boy, perhaps a year older than Blaine, and **my** was he pretty. He had a bit of an elfin face, with sharp, prominent features and a soft smile. Oh, and HIS EYES, a clear blue that was sprinkled with mesmerizing flecks of grey. Blaine gulped again, this time not from fear, but from astonishment that this gorgeous creature should live in District 12, of all places._

_"Tha-thanks," he said in a small, timid voice. The mystery boy just nodded and turned to face the stage without a word._

_A creepy young-ish woman had strutted onto the stage while he was staring into John Doe's eyes. She had frightening make-up coating her face, a head of hair that resembled a beehive, and a fitted dress that flounced and frilled far too much for Blaine's liking. The extravagant woman introduced herself as Effie Trinket (what an odd name) and began babbling about the Capital and blah blah blah, stuff he'd heard before during school lessons. _

_He once again peeked over at Cooper, who looked a little bored, along with a few other older kids. He guessed they were used to all this. _

_He didn't think he would ever get used to it. _

_The boy whose hand was still grasping his looked more than a little terrified, and Blaine had to wonder if that was what his own expression resembled._

_Effie's maddeningly sugary voice stopped for a short while when a cheesy video played on that large screen behind her. Blaine paid little attention to the grainy photography- the simpering woman was much more entertaining. She was swaying side to side as she listened, mouthing the words as they were spoken in a somewhat eerie synchronization. What was wrong with this lady?_

_The video ended and a strangely foreboding smile alit Effie's face. It made her look like a homicidal porcelain clown._

_"Ladies and gentleman, we will now begin the reaping for your 51st HUNGER GAMES!" she cried with genuine excitement. And now the trembling began, and he couldn't stop. He gnawed hard at his lip, trying to contain the tears. He felt a gentle squeeze, and knew without even looking that the mystery boy had felt his fear._

_"Ladies first." She walked over to a large pristine glass bowl. With a flick of her thin wrist, she whipped her hand in and flicked out a paper. She nodded dramatically to herself, and unfolded the pale slip that would unknowingly tell of one girl's demise._

_"Carolyn Bakryn!" Effie exclaimed enthusiastically. A sudden weep sounded from somewhere behind Blaine, and he twisted his neck to see. A girl was collapsed on the ground, beating it with her fists even as the Peacekeepers dragged her up to the stage. _

_Blaine felt sick. That girl was a mere 12 years old. Same age as Blaine. And what was worse, he **knew** her. She's been in his class; she's smiled at him rather than sneered when he insisted upon playing dolls with the girls instead of wrestling with the unruly boys. **He knew her, and she was going to die.**_

_Effie patted the girl on the head, wrinkled her nose as Carolyn wiped her wet face dry with the sleeve of her old and fraying dress, and without any more preamble, turned back toward the bowl of names. It must have been replaced with a bowl of boys' names by then. "And, now, for the boys..."_

_Blaine watched, frozen, numb, as those claw-like fingers plucked one slip from the bowl._

_She turned to look at the audience, upping the anticipation. The hand around Blaine's tensed, and Blaine could feel the dig of nails in his flesh. He would have those little crescent moons there for days afterwards._

_Those claws daintily unfolded the paper, and a collective intake of breath could be heard from the audience. Blaine's legs threatened to give out. A boy in front of him stamped his feet._

_She paused, peeped toward the audience, pursed her lips-_

_And then she read the name._

_"Cooper Anderson!"_

* * *

The morning came, and Blaine woke up, bleary-eyed and exhausted. Something warm was wrapped around him. He blinked.

He shifted, and the sudden movement seemed to pull Kurt from his slumber. The "something warm" jumped up, eyes glazed but alert, and Kurt whispered out, "What, what is it?"

He saw Blaine then, awake and okay, not in that creepy state like last night and let out a breath he hadn't remembered inhaling.

Blaine on the other hand, was at first rather perplexed by Kurt's reaction. But then... it was _today_... and it all made sense.

Blaine took in Kurt's overall look- the disheveled clothing, the dark circles underneath his eyes; the cold fear in his gaze- and sighed. "I'm s-sorry, I ke-kept you up."

"I know."

"It's just- I c-can't help it, I-"

"Blaine, I **know.**"

* * *

Breakfast was, at first, a silent affair. Finn was still half-asleep, but the expected grumbling never came. Instead, he lumbered down the stairs, slid gracelessly into his seat, and munched slowly on the small berries he was given.

Blaine was in the kitchen, chopping vegetables with a plastic-y brave smile fused to his face. Kurt hadn't the heart to call him out on it, so he settled on pecking the boy's cheek before maneuvering over to the table.

Carole and Burt sat hand in hand, worried glances constantly shared between them.

So yeah, no speaking, an uncomfortably chilling silence that echoed through the neighborhood, not to be disturbed...

...until something loud and obnoxious yet not **completely** unwelcome burst through the door and began speaking a mile a minute.

"OH god, Finn, you wouldn't believe everything that's gone on this morning! Seriously, don't even try to guess darling, wouldn't want you to hurt yourself, oh HELLO Blaine, fancy seeing you here Kurt, respective Hudmels. Any whom, back to my incredible story, now Finn, you know how my Fathers hired that one ex-butler from downtown? Well it turns out..."

Hold on a moment...

"...and then he said, 'OH no you friggin didn't just hit on me ya crazy cracker' with that exact punctuation, I'll say..."

Keep holding...

"...and I will not get into how excruciatingly tedious work removing an ornate gardening supply from one's..."

_Little longer..._

"...so we just tucked ourselves into that delightful little corner in the attic until he took a hint and left, we really had a nice laugh afterwards. MY, are those STAR BERRIES? OOOH, my favorite! Yes, you know, I'll just take a few."

There we are. Oh joy. The inexhaustible chaos that is Rachel Berry had arrived.

"Rachel," Kurt deadpanned, once Rachel's mouth had, instead of blabbering, begun happily munching up berries, "How nice it is to see you."

"Oh, you too Kurt!" The orange juice from the berries dribbled onto her chin, and she looked strangely manic.

You know what they say; there really is only one Rachel Berry insert gold star here.

* * *

The atmosphere of the house had suddenly been replaced with an air of nonchalance.

The whole family had gathered around the table, eating a rare hearty breakfast. Blaine made eggs, the leftover bread from the night before had been toasted, and the berries were scrumptious.

Blaine smirked from across the table. "So, Ms. Rachel Be-Berry."

She quirked her smile sideways, skewing the once bubbly smile into one of mischief. "So, Mr. Anderson...Hummel." She snickers.

His face reddened, as does the rest of the table, at the mention of himself and Kurt being married. He kept his cool, however, and replied with, "I-I heard from the infamous Mercedes J-Jones that you and Finn," his eyes flicked to the boy in question, who paled considerably, "have talked a f-few things over..."

She paled as well, which made Kurt look at Blaine curiously, mad that he was left unaware of this little tidbit of gossip.

"...and... have de-decided..."

Rachel's face gave clear warning, but he plowed on.

"...that you two are-"

"TO BE MARRIED NOT A SECOND TOO LATE AFTER TODAY'S REAPING!"

Everyone turned, shocked at Finn's outburst. His face was similar to a lobster's, as was Rachel's.

A pregnant silence and then-

"EEEEEEEEEK!" Kurt pounced adroitly across the table and clung to Rachel, chattering excitedly about wedding plans.

Blaine smirk grew, but his eyes carried a new softness. "Congratulations, you g-guys," he said, aiming a benevolent smile at Finn and crossing his arms with satisfaction.

Burt grunted, "I'm proud of you two," and awkwardly patted Finn's back.

Carole burst into tears of motherly joy and hugged her son for all he's worth.

Finn's face, still red, shown with utmost pride. He was happy, for once, he was actually happy!

Once Rachel had managed to extract herself from Kurt's grasp, she nodded brightly. "Yes. We were going to announce it after the reaping, but apparently fate had different plans." She sighed dramatically. "It is to be held tonight in that cute chapel on the hill. Dress elegantly!" she threatens shrilly, jabbing her fork at the people gathered in the room.

They all managed a laugh, though some weren't genuine...

* * *

Amongst a warm and happy crowd, Blaine was frozen. But he kept an unwavering smile on his face nonetheless. He was _strong_. But something Rachel had said stayed, niggling away in his brain.

_"...after the reaping..."_

No. **No**. He couldn't afford to think that way. Everyone, _everyone_ would be fine and they would have a nice celebration tonight, and Blaine would think about marrying Kurt one day, and he would get all gushy inside because Kurt is the love of his life, and they were soul mates and- he was rambling. _Nervous little prick..._

But yes, everything would be fine. He _knew_ this, he did.

But...but then why was his heart so constricted with fear?

* * *

_Blaine felt like he was drowning in an ocean of frigid cold water. The water bit hungrily at his tender flesh, but he didn't feel it. He was numb. Numb, numb, numb..._

_Then someone was pulling him out of the water and up to the waves splashing malevolently above. No, he wanted to stay in this dull cold, far from the storm, far from anything._

_But the person wouldn't quit. _

_So Blaine was pulled back up, up to scary reality... the inviting numbness was replaced with churning hysteria. The waves were so close now, thrashing and coiling like a snake. He knew he wouldn't make it once he was up there. But then the water was leaving him, first his head, then his neck, then his limp arms, down to the tips of his toes. And for some reason (his mind was so foggy) he was dry, and there were no waves, and he realized his eyes were squeezed shut._

_He opened them. And then shit got **real**._

_Someone was screaming, loud and squeaky, the kind that should be embarrassing._

_Wait. **He** was the one screaming..._

_"Cooper! COOPER!"_

_Blaine ran forward, tugging the hand still grasping his with him. The helpful boy looked close to tears, but Blaine didn't dare let go. He just kept going._

_Cooper was walking up to the stage like a zombie, jaw slack and eyes misty. The small red-haired girl he'd once admitted to loving was being dragged away by her older brother, his hand clamped gently but firmly over her mouth, trying to stifle her shrieks. Tears were streaming down her face, and her eyes were red and irritated. Blaine scrubbed at his own with his free hand, shocked to find wetness. When did I start crying?_

_Blaine was almost to the stage now. The peacekeepers were in his way, but he knew he could get through. He hoped, at least._

_The once comforting hand was clawing at his wrists, and Blaine chanced a look back. The elfin boy was sobbing and shaking his head, trying to get back into the crowd, away from this nightmare._

_Suddenly the generic, imperially thin and faceless men in white began marching them back towards the rows and rows of frightened children. Blaine continued to struggle, even as the boy dragged him back, even as the men shoved him away, he fought, because Coop taught him to be a **fighter**. _

_All the while, his older brother stood still next to Effie, pleading with Blaine to stop, assuring him "...it'll be okay." His words were lost on Blaine, however, who continued his efforts, doubled them._

_Effie coughed uncomfortably in the background, and suddenly Blaine could see- He now stood, so close to the stage, with everyone's eyes locked on him. He stood there, frozen, as the young boy by his side wrenched his hand from that knuckle-white grasp, but surprisingly did not leave. Instead, he softly wrapped his frail arms around Blaine's shoulders. _

_He gently guided Blaine back through the crowd, who parted helpfully. Blaine felt as though he were on autopilot. Turning one last time, he stared intensely into Coop's eyes. Cooper gulped, and Blaine bit back another sob at the sight of strong, brave Cooper's fear. A silent conversation was had between them. _Go, _Coop said. Blaine's nod was barely perceptible. _

_Then that creepy woman was talking again, in her weird accented voice._

_"These, District 12, are your tributes!" She exclaimed to the crowd, snatching both hands and forcing them into the air, and paused for the unenthusiastic applause. "And there you have it. Now, I would like to introduce our new and shiny mentor..." _

_Blaine turned away from the stage. _

_The next few hours were a blur._

_A young man, barely over 18, came swaying from the mass of bodies just to slur some meaningless words into the microphone._

_The angelic boy patted his back comfortingly, and Blaine clung to this tiny piece of sunshine in this wretched and dark world._

_His dad retrieved him, and he walked home like he was dead, the boy's sad eyes as he tearfully waved a goodbye fading into the distance._

_And that night, when he heard the other families partying and laughing and crying and **living, **he wept. And he wept, and he wept, and he cried a river, and he sobbed the whole world underwater._

_But the little angelic boy is what soothed him when he was having one of his 'special dreams' or when he couldn't stop the flow of tears._

_The only little angel in his world..._


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Yup. Sorry for not posting in ever. I didn't get much feedback, so I was pretty lax with this one. Anywho, enjoy this next chap! **

**Disclaimer- DO NOT OWN ANYTHING but my awesomeness.**

**:P PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW. Even if you hate it. I need feedback, or else I won't continue this... :(**

* * *

In a small, gritty square in the center of town, people began trickling in. Analyzing their every move were men, clad in sterile white suits and prepared for anything and everything.

Effie gazed out at the growing crowd from behind the curtain. "Oh goody," she whispers to herself. "It seems to be a large group today. I wonder what's to come..." Her bright grin suddenly turns uneasy, as she mutters, "Let's hope it's no one too young. They are always making a mess of _everything_..."

* * *

"You ready for this?" Kurt whispered as they stepped outside of the Hudmel house into the cool air, a few feet behind Rachel and Finn, who were leaning against each other, Rachel's petite head burrowed into Finn's side, his gangly arm resting securely on her shoulders.

"I-I... I re-eally d-d-don't k-know..." God_damn _that stutter. It always got worse when he was nervous. His throat would constrict, and it would seem as though he were in a silent film- he would move his mouth, but no sound came out. It was incredibly annoying.

"I'll be there next to you the whole time, I prom-"

"D-D-Don't worry, K-Kurt. I kno-ow."

Kurt sighed, rubbing his hands together to keep them occupied. Blaine, feigning playful exasperation despite such harrowing circumstances, huffed out a 'haughty' breath and entwined their hands. Kurt smiled. Blaine beamed.

"You must be terrified, I'm terrified..." Kurt whispered eventually, breaking the silence, speaking so quietly it was nearly unintelligible. But Blaine understood. He couldn't exactly lie to Kurt, so he simply settled for humming quietly under his breath.

"I don't know what to say, I never do," Kurt admitted bashfully.

Blaine stopped. "No. K-K-Kurt, don't-t, don't d-do this. Kurt, you- you a-are amazing t-to m-m-m..." Blaine knew his voice had long since stopped listening to what his brain said, but now it seemed to have left him completely, gone to vacation in the Capitol, leaving him to fend for himself. The words just wouldn't form; he kept tripping over himself, again and again. Nevertheless, he plowed on, determined not to have his speech be stopped by something he deemed so trivial. "You m-m-m-ean the world-d to- to me, and I-I, I c-c-couldn't surv-vive without-t you, I love y-y-y-y-y..." He couldn't continue. His throat had closed up; his vocal chords had refused to keep going.

Kurt, being the lovely person he was, breathed out similar sentiments. "I love you too, B. So much..." With this, the elfin boy tenderly stroked Blaine hand. "Come on. Finchel is way ahead of us, and I don't want to be the last ones there.

Blaine nodded, and they resumed their walk. They would arrive in town soon, too soon. But not before...

Blaine stood on his tip-toes and kissed Kurt's cheek chastely, before moving to snuggle into his boyfriend's side.

Kurt chuckled lightly, and pressed his smiling lips against the top of Blaine's head. "We'll be okay... I promise..."

* * *

Blaine shivered, and pulled Kurt even closer as they walked into town. It was time. Another year gone by. _Just two more reapings and it will all be over..._

Blaine, being seventeen, was still eligible another year.

Kurt, being eighteen, was about to face his last reaping.

The two navigated their way through the crowd, mindful not to bump into anybody too hard.

They passed whimpering young children, sobbing mothers, stoic fathers. Blaine felt sick. Occasionally they passed those slimy cretins who slipped each other bets as to which youngster they believed would end up tribute. Blaine saw red.

"I can't see them..." Kurt spoke quietly to himself. Blaine craned his neck, trying to peer through the crowd and locate their unlikely and dysfunctional group of friends, but his efforts were useless. There were too many people blocking his view.

They wound through bodies, searching for those familiar faces. Then-

"Kurt, Blaine!" A loud voice stage-whispered, and suddenly they were being dragged by two tiny pairs of hands through the crowd.

"Oh thank god we found you, we assumed the worst!" Tina whispered melodramatically, glancing at Rachel, who pursed her lips and nodded.

They screeched to a halt, Blaine and Kurt nearly face planting. Rachel and Tina high-fived each other smugly, then stepped aside.

"Oh, bother, don't hurt the pretty dolphins. Kurt's too fabulous and Blaine's too shiny for death!" Brittany cried with honest anguish, throwing her arms around the two.

Kurt smiled at the group of misfits. It was nice to see them all. Their kind faces were like cool balm on his fried nerves, and he breathed out peacefully for what felt like the first time that day.

"There you are! We thought you'd blown the whole thing off," Finn said uneasily, wrapping his long arm around Rachel.

"It's 'bout time. Where were you? Fucking like rabbits? Brit-Brit was wondering, wanted to know if she could watch," Santana smirked, smoothly, sassily.

Brittany nodded eagerly, and said, "I totally want to. It would be hot. Almost as hot as mine and Santana's sweet lady sex. But more fluffy, and more colorful," Brittany nodded to herself, still completely serious.

Blaine's face went from pale white to pomegranate in no time flat. "Ummm..."

"Ignore them," Kurt said easily. Blaine nodded, though his eyes were still bugging out a little from his skull.

Blaine looked at the group. Noah 'Puck' Puckerman stood on the outskirts, next to Sam, where they were talking to their younger siblings, comforting them. Tina was grasping Mike's hand, whispering things in his ear that made him smile, albeit somewhat wearily. Finn and Rachel, the soon-to-be married couple, were absorbed in their own slightly one-sided conversation. Their very own paraplegic badass, Artie, was sitting in his chair beside Quinn, who was seated in her own newly acquired wheelchair, and Samuel the religious 'cool cat' was giving her a massage. Mercedes was picking at her nails, smirking at Brittany and Santana's less than innocent antics. Santana played along with her girlfriend, but there was an underlying fear in the creases of her forehead. And dear, dear Brittany just babbled mindlessly to herself, completely oblivious the day's horror.

Blaine sighed for about the ten-millionth time that day, and placed his head lightly on Kurt's shoulder. Kurt began stroking Blaine's lengthy curls.

It all felt so right, so natural, with all their friends around them, no matter the sadness suffused within the atmosphere.

It felt nice, like something he hadn't truly felt in a long, long time...

It felt like home.

* * *

Out of nowhere, Effie appeared on stage, and all of those naive warm-fuzzies in Blaine vanished. Suddenly, fear clawed at him with its constricting grip. He felt the eyes of the other Gleeks, a name they'd donned years ago when they'd first joined the school's small choir, boring into him, pityingly, but he tried hard to ignore the stares.

Then Kurt's hand was on his shoulder, his neck, and it was burning against Blaine's frozen skin. Blaine relished in the heat, and practically collapsed into Kurt's embrace, trying to suppress this nauseating feeling gripping his body.

Kurt, detecting Blaine's distress, cooed comfortingly into Blaine's ear, and massaged his boyfriend's back reassuringly.

Effie strode imperiously up to the microphone, and tapped it with a resounding boom. A smirk graced her powdered white face, and she spoke, smoothing the frills on her dress. "Hello, hello, hello District 12."

Behind him, Blaine heard the sounds of the other worried Gleeks, from Mercedes' sniffle to Santana's near-silent intake of breath. Puck's little sister had already begun to cry. Blaine steadied himself, refusing to act so young, so childish, knowing that he'd grown up, somehow, without Cooper. _Everything will be okay..._

He listened mutely, that impenetrable mask he'd formed years ago swallowing up all that poisonous fear and replacing it with a cool confidence Blaine hadn't known he'd possessed, as Effie announced the reaping with one of her eloquent, well-rehearsed, and mechanical speeches. When it came to the video on the history of the Games, more commonly referred to by the Gleeks, "The Epitome of Propaganda", Blaine felt Kurt's hand clench. It brought him back to that fateful day, the worst day, with the little angel's comforting hand. _Kurt's my angel..._

The traitorous fear returned to Blaine's heart when Effie walked back to the microphone once the screen had again gone blank. "Ladies and gentleman, let us now learn the identities of our victors for the 56th Hunger Games!" She cried with forced exuberance. Like always, little enthusiasm radiated from the barely responsive crowd.

Blaine's breathing picked up, quick and erratic, as she walked up to one glass bowl. He could feel fear's cold, clammy hands clawing at his insides, tearing him apart...

_"And, now, for the boys..."_

_Blaine watched, frozen, numb, as those claw-like fingers plucked one slip from the bowl._

_She turned to look at the audience, upping the anticipation. The hand around Blaine's tensed, and Blaine could feel the dig of nails in his flesh. He would have those little crescent moons there for days afterwards._

_Those claws daintily unfolded the paper, and a collective intake of breath could be heard from the audience. Blaine's legs threatened to give out. A boy in front of him stamped his feet._

_She paused, peeped toward the audience, pursed her lips-_

_And then she read the name._

_"Cooper Anderson!"_

Kurt chanced a glance at his boyfriend. Blaine's hand had gone slack at Effie's words.

"Blaine!" Kurt breathed, taking in Blaine's panic-attack symptoms- the ashen face, the trickles of sweat, the abnormal breathing- and squeezed Blaine's hand even tighter. "Blaine, look at me..."

_Someone was screaming, loud and squeaky, the kind that should be embarrassing._

_Wait. **He** was the one screaming..._

_"Cooper! COOPER!"_

"Blaine! Blaine, snap out of it!"

_"Cooper..."_

**"Blaine!"**

Blaine whipped his head to look at Kurt, whose eyes were wide and fearful. Blaine whimpered, collapsing into his boyfriend's embrace. The taller boy wrapped his arms protectively around Blaine, who finally allowed himself to tune into Effie's words.

"Santana Lopez!"

* * *

Blaine blinked in astonishment. No, NO, this couldn't happen again, not again, please... Blaine whipped his head, looking deeply into Santana's eyes.

Santana's face appeared neutral as she gazed up toward Effie, who was beckoning for her to step forth. Blaine should have known that her stony mask of indifference never faltered, not even at this. The only way you could tell how nervous she was was by how hard she was biting her lip, with enough force to break through the skin.

Tugging her hand from Brittany's, Santana began her journey towards the stage. The silence was deafening.

Brittany had just begun to comprehend the situation. Her incessant and mindless chatter had ceased, and her eyes were shining with unshed tears. Blaine heard her mutter beneath her breath, "No, they can't take Tana away from me, they CAN'T..."

Blaine glanced over at Kurt, scanning the boy's features. Kurt's face was contorted into an expression of fiery determination, and he was aiming a frigid glare up at a completely oblivious Effie. Kurt looked over to Blaine, barely contained grief evident beneath the roaring flames licking within his eyes.

The Gleeks surrounding them were all trying to stifle gasps and sobs. A sniffling Tina was gently restraining Brittany, who kept muttering under her breath unintelligible sounds. Tina was whispering something in Brittany's ear, but all sense seemed to have left the blonde. The rest of the girls were clutching at one another, desperate for comfort. The boys were silently scrubbing away their once forbidden tears.

Santana reached the stage and silently walked past the microphone. She went all the way to the other side of the stage, where she began to regard Effie with a look of pure contempt. Blaine almost chuckled; he should've have known Santana's resilience would appear in acts of defiance if she was ever chosen for the Games.

Effie appeared ruffled, stalking over to Santana with an indignant huff and bodily dragging the girl to the center of the stage. The crowd gazed up in awe as Santana struggled, shaking her head and stamping her feet. A few people laughed quietly at Effie's frustrated expression.

Finally, Effie managed to work her way to center stage with Santana in tow. She placed Santana square in front of the microphone.

"Tell us your name, Sweetie, for those who may have missed it." Effie spoke through gritted teeth as she tightened her grip on Santana's rigid form.

"Santana Lopez." Blaine blinked at the shake in her voice; Santana must have noticed it too, because she seemed to steel herself over before continuing with, "Age 18, Ma'am." The word 'ma'am' was spoken with enough venom to kill a normal person outright, but apparently Effie was so warped she didn't even notice.

"Alright then." Effie's eyes were shining now. "Move over to the side now dear... and please, do stay there." Effie's only reply was Santana's signature smirk.

"Now for the boys..." Blaine shook at the statement. Kurt's grip was knuckle-white, but Blaine didn't mind. He watched in trepidation as Effie walked back over to the glass bowl. It was always like some kind of sick replay of that first reaping with Cooper. He could still feel his brother's hands helping him fix his tie. Blaine would never tell Kurt, but that was the reason he loved having Kurt help him with the finishing touches of his wardrobe.

Effie swiped her hand into the massive pile of paper slips, retrieving one with a satisfied smile. She walked back slowly.

Blaine kept his eyes on Santana. She was silently fiddling with her ratty dress. He thought he saw her shoot a look down at the group, but soon after decided that he was just being wishful. He could still hear Brittany crying in the background, could hear the girl's comforting her. He could hear the boys scuffing the ground with their feet.

Blaine locked eyes with Kurt. Kurt nodded to Blaine, not bothering to wipe away the tears streaming down his pale cheeks. Blaine reached up to brush them away, just as Effie read the name aloud.

Blaine's hand froze.

"Kurt Hummel!"

* * *

Blaine could only gape at Effie as she smiled toothily at the crowd, awaiting the arrival of the next tribute. He shook his head, before looking at Kurt. Kurt's face was scrunched up in pain; his eyebrows were creased, his lips were set in a thin line, and his nose was dripping with tears. Blaine felt his heart tear in two at the sight. He wouldn't take it; he refused to let this happen.

Blaine knew right then what he had to do.

Kurt's slackening grip as he began walking towards the stage was what spurred Blaine to act. The first time he said it, it was spoken with little vehemence. However, the second time, it was like a tumultuous roar.

_"I volunteer..."_

**_"I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE!"_**

* * *

Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. Kurt whipped his head around to gawk at Blaine. Blaine wrestled his hand from Kurt's tight grip before beginning his silent journey towards stage.

He could mutely hear Kurt's continuous pleading with him as he walked away, and it punctured his already mangled heart. Blaine stopped suddenly, swayed on the spot, and then turned around. Everyone else disappeared as he looked deep into Kurt's eyes, putting everything he wanted to say but literally couldn't into that gaze. Kurt never broke it, not once, and Blaine could tell that Kurt had understood.

Blaine's senses returned to him slowly as he continued his journey up to the stage. He could hear Kurt collapse into a Gleek's embrace. The crowd, like always, parted for him as he trekked past. Blaine barely registered Effie's reaction to the situation, only catching a foggy, "...haven't had a volunteer in years..."

As soon as he arrived at those gritty, grimy stairs, Blaine took a second to look back. He immediately caught the gazes of the worried Gleeks; saw Kurt clutching at Finn and Rachel for dear life. Blaine held in a sob, and hurriedly resealed his composure. Biting his lip, just like Santana, he rushed the rest of the way to Effie.

As soon as he arrived by her side, she seized his hand in her cold grip, and turned him toward the crowd, simultaneously shoving his arm into the air. Blaine imagined Cooper, standing up here, pleading with his little brother to calm down…

"Now, what's your name again, for the audience?" Effie looked at him with that infuriating simpering expression.

"B-B-Blaine Anderson," Blaine whispered into the microphone, still not trusting of his voice.

"And why, perchance, did you choose to volunteer, dearie?" Effie inquires with that lilting Capitol accent. Blaine stared pointedly at her, hoping she wouldn't make him answer that, but she was determined. Blaine took a deep breath and muttered, "Bec-cause…. I-I couldn't let-t him d-d-die. He's all I-I got-t-t…" Blaine heard Kurt let slip another broken sob. Blaine was desperately trying not to break down into a crumpled up mess, but he could feel the façade cracking. Blaine chanced a glance over at Santana; her expression was blank.

"There you have it. These are our 56th Hunger Games tributes!" Effie squeaked. "Now, we will have this year's mentor come up to speak. Where is he… oh, _there_ he is!" Effie's fake smile got wider and her eyes got dimmer as a clearly drunk Haymitch stepped onto the platform, mumbling under his breath. Haymitch took one look at Blaine and Santana before letting out a hoot of laughter and exclaiming, "What a year! Two oldies!" He snickered to himself before divulging a secret to the two. "You know, I'd really like someone to win. I **_hate_** this mentor thing." And, with that, Haymitch promptly pitched forward, collapsing in a heap on the floor. Unconscious.

"All **rightie** then!" Effie screeches. "This concludes this year's reaping. Farewell!" Effie waved quickly to the crowd before snatching up both their hands and yanking them over to the imposing double doors at the back of the stage. Blaine struggled briefly as he was marched away from Santana, toward another set of double doors he seriously didn't want to enter, before going slack and allowing himself to be dragged through the doorway.

* * *

Blaine wasn't blinking.

He'd realized how dry his eyes were getting, but had decided to ignore it. Instead, he continued to stare at those ornately carved doors, willing someone to waltz through them and whisk him away, to somewhere safe. He envisioned rainbows streaking an azure blue sky with their dazzling colors, imagined canaries twittering about freely, fantasized about racing through endless meadows and fields with Kurt at his side. In this fabricated life, Kurt would smile, and there would be no heaviness in those gorgeous blue-grey eyes.

Suddenly, those doors that were making his eyes so papery opened with an echoing squeak, shattering his dream world. In came the tall, gangly figure of Finn, whose dull eyes were unusually bright. Rachel was clutching at her fiancé's arm, her weeps muffled by a small hand pressed to her mouth. And behind them was...

Kurt burst past the two huddled figures and rushed over to Blaine, flinging himself into his boyfriend's arms. Kurt pressed his wet face into Blaine's shoulder, sobbing and rambling incoherently.

"Kurt. Kurt!" Blaine pulled away slightly, shaking Kurt's shoulders, trying to revive the hysterical boy. Finally, Kurt sniffed, wiped harshly at his face, and gazed deeply into Blaine's eyes. "How... how... HOW COULD YOU?" Kurt demanded, his expression changing from one of utter grief to one of raw anger. "I can't believe you would do something so stupid!" Kurt began pounding emphatically against Blaine's chest. Blaine immediately let go of Kurt, frightened by the boy's visceral reaction to the situation. He heard Rachel whispering placating things to Kurt, but her attempts were useless. Kurt was in too deep.

"I can't let you die, Blaine, I can't, I love you, I love you so damn much, and then you go and do something like this. It's all breaking my heart, Blaine, I-"

Blaine crushed his lips against Kurt's, cutting off the taller boy's raging rant. Kurt gasped, before responding in kind, wrapping his thin arms around Blaine's neck and pressing into Blaine's body so hard they nearly toppled over. Finally, Blaine pulled away from the embrace, gasping for breath. He was a little startled by the mixing pot of emotions that was his boyfriend right now, but decided he'd deal with it. He didn't have much time.

"Kurt. K-Kurt, I need you t-to listen to me-me." He waited for the boy to nod firmly. Blaine then entwined their fingers, amazed at how soft Kurt's were. Blaine knew that if he went on some long speech, his voice would fail him, and leave him more frustrated than before. Instead, he opted for the near silent route.

Blaine reached up with one hand, separating it from Kurt's, and ran it along the sharp contours of Kurt's cheek. Kurt nuzzled into the hand, looking deeply at Blaine with leaking eyes.

"I love you." Blaine sighed.

Kurt's face crumpled, but he maintained his stance, not allowing it to falter. "I love you too..." Kurt trailed off. "And you won't die. Promise me Blaine; promise me you will not give up. You have to fight. Please." Blaine just nodded.

Kurt paused a second, before adding, "And I'm sorry for freaking out." Blaine responded by pressing a chaste kiss to the side of Kurt's lips.

"Uh... sorry to disturb the two of you, but..." Finn said awkwardly, breaking the moment, as he handed Rachel over to them. He mouthed 'help me', his face screwed up in bewilderment. Blaine, despite the perilous situation he was now in, chuckled hoarsely and wrapped his arms around their distraught young diva. Kurt's lips skewed up in a tiny smile.

"Blaaaine!" Rachel wailed, clutching at the ratty fabric of his shirt. "You can't do this! This can't be happening!" She shoved her face into his shoulder, staining his shirt with her hot, sloppy tears.

"There, there..." he said awkwardly. Kurt supplied helpfully, "Try rubbing her back," as he mimed the motion. Blaine did as he was told, prompting a spectacular wail from Rachel.

"Okay, that's enough, Berry..." Kurt grabbed his friend and pried her away from Blaine, who looked on with grateful eyes. She nodded and allowed herself to be engulfed in Finn's arms once more. Peering at Blaine through red-rimmed eyes, she exclaimed, "I'm sorry! It's just, it's all so devastating!"

Blaine nodded squeamishly. The light air had disappeared as Rachel unknowingly brought reality right to him. He looked over to Kurt, who appeared unruffled, barring the tear stains streaking his cheeks. Finn was as oblivious as ever, standing unobtrusively in the corner of the room. Blaine sighed and beckoned the giant of a boy over. Finn stumbled all the way to him.

"I'm sorry," Finn offered weakly, the right words evading him. Blaine worried his lip, adjusting his clothing to occupy his idle hands. "It's fine Finn." Finn, though sometimes quite dull, could also be very wise, and understood the hidden meaning in Blaine's words. _I'd rather it be me than any of you... _

Suddenly, those stupid Peacekeepers burst in. The bittersweet yet comfortable atmosphere vanished immediately.

"Time's up. You already surpassed your limit. Let's go."

The man's threatening voice stirred dread in the teenager's hearts. But Kurt refused to give up. Clinging to his boyfriend's arm, he said in a calm and measured voice, "Please. Just one more minute. Then we'll all go."

The tall man looked down at them all, a sneer forming on his face as he noticed how close Blaine and Kurt were. "Yeah, sure. Get out, all of you. I don't need a bunch of friggin' teens causing trouble around here. I already got enough to deal with." He snorted. "Hope you all got your goodbyes in. Because now? You're leaving." At this statement, four other Peacekeepers strode in, right on cue. They grasped the three visitor's arms with painfully strong grips.

Rachel shrieked, pulling away, trying her best to get closer to Finn. The man just stamped on her foot, muttering a harsh, "Get moving." She shut up after that, and limped out the door, looking back only once to shoot Blaine a horrified look.

Finn attempted to use his clumsiness to his advantage as he wriggled and flailed aimlessly, flopping his arms in strange loops. Sadly, the method was unsuccessful, and he nearly toppled over as the Peacekeepers pushed him out the door.

Kurt was the last to be forced to leave. Blaine's heart swelled with love and pride for the boy as Kurt simply sat down on the floor, crossing his legs and smirking up at the tall men with vicious confidence. They grunted, annoyed, but still began the difficult task of sliding Kurt across the rough cement.

They were making progress, but Kurt's fuzzy outfit kept catching on the bumps that littered the ground, forcing them to tug harder. Blaine could imagine how painful this must be on Kurt's legs as they were scraped raw by the rough flooring, but besides the occasional hiss of pain, Kurt's expression remained one of pure determination as he stared directly at Blaine, his piercing eyes filled with love. Blaine stared right back, never breaking the intense gaze. Blaine was memorizing Kurt's face, every inch, every curve, every beautiful expression, for he knew that this would be the last time he would see Kurt for a long while.

Maybe even forever.

They were nearing the doorway. Kurt looked up at Blaine and said, "I love you," one last time before he was out the door completely. Blaine said it back, his sight turning blurry, his entire body drooping. He was exhausted.

Before he could collapse in a chair somewhere, though, the door opened one last time, only to show the cold face of yet another Peacekeeper. "No more visitors. We're leaving." Blaine had forgotten about the other Gleeks entirely. Now he felt terrible, knowing that they were out there, waiting to say their goodbyes, goodbyes that he's never get to hear.

* * *

The man walked up to Blaine, taking his arm, and led him out of the room. Blaine paid him no attention, feeling as though he were on autopilot, his legs like jelly. He was led through cavernous corridors, past several meeting rooms with long, dark tables, and finally, out the backdoor and into the blinding sunlight. They walked past so many onlookers; Blaine refused to look at them. His eyes remained stationary, fixed on his scuffed shoes as he tripped along.

They finally made it to that fancy train that would transport him to the Capitol. Blaine chanced one last look into the crowd- no familiar faces. They were all just blank bodies, void of any of his happy memories.

The emotions mounting inside him didn't show on his face. Instead, he remained a stoic robot until he had at last boarded the shining and polished train. He didn't even notice Santana situated on one of those cozy looking couches as he made his way out of the first entry room, ignored Effie's shrill voice trying to capture his attention. He just walked, separate from reality.

He flung himself onto his bed the minute he arrived in his sleeping quarters. Finally, that mask he'd been supporting with herculean effort broke, as did he. For the first real time that day, Blaine cried. And cried and cried and cried and cried. The pillow he's pressed his face into grew sopping wet, but he paid it no notice. He just lay there for hours, going through everything important to him in District Twelve.

Burt. Carole. Finn. Rachel. The Gleeks.

Kurt.

And with these heart-wrenching thoughts, he drifted off into an uneasy and restless sleep, the prospect of future calamitous events clouding his mind. He would wake up the next morning with puffy eyes and a red face. The train's occupants would all discuss plans, ideas. He would confront Santana, try to talk to her.

But right now, he would sleep, subconsciously dreading that the horrific images his mind was conjuring up would end up being just as horrible as reality.

* * *

**A/N: REVIEW! Pretty pretty please with a delicious cherry resting on top in perfect contrast with the please?**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hey yall! I know I've been gone for a while, but you should know, I haven't gotten much feedback on this (though I hardly expected to). So my drive to continue this thing is lacking. Now, I will finish it, I promise, I kind of have a plan for this thing, but I'm not gonna be writing it quickly unless I receive a ton of feedback! Sorry this chapter isn't as long as the others, but I kinda felt I needed to stop here. :P**

**Pleeeease review! It would seriously make my life. Right now, I'm only at four reviews...**** Please?**

**Disclaimer: Me don't own. :P**

* * *

Blaine was eventually stirred from his fitful sleep by the gentle thrum of the high-speed train's roaring engines. The noise seemed distant and muted in his sleepy state. Blaine pulled himself from his slumber, feeling the grip of fatigue settling in on him bitterly. He really should have tried to sleep better the night before, but horrible nightmares plagued his dreams, eliminating any chance of him ever sleeping restfully.

He tried to crack open his swollen, red eyes, but swiftly them as soon as those malevolent rays of sunlight pierced his vision.

Blaine groaned to himself as he flopped over on his surprisingly comfortably plush bed, moaning louder as he felt his aching bones creak. He jostled his arms, flailing them back and forth until he felt both shoulders crack. He stretched and strained his legs until he felt satisfied they were as functional as possible. He craned his neck forward until those tight rings of stiff muscle popped and he no longer felt paralyzed. Finally, he elongated his spine until he felt that minute shifting of bones that made all the difference in his morale for the day.

Sitting up straighter, Blaine shoved his silky satin covers from his body, and immediately winced as an unpleasant draft rushed towards him. He struggled to untangle himself from his thick, wooly comforter he'd cocooned himself in the night prior, all the while muttering obscenities under his breath.

Yeah, he was not a morning person.

Blaine finally freed himself from his woolen prison, and set out to his wardrobe to go through his normal morning routine. As soon as his bare foot touched this unfamiliar, polished hardwood floor, his eyes snapped open, skirting around these foreign walls, the strange brightly colored woven drapes adorning the paneled walls, the impossibly fuzzy-looking rug in the corner, the scenery whizzing past his window...

The events of the last few days came pummeling towards him, full-force, in that one instant. Everything. The reaping, Kurt, his friends, Santana, Kurt...

He managed to muffle his sob with one hand while the other scrubbed viciously at the tears welling in his eyes. Blaine had figured he'd cried enough tears for a lifetime the day before, but apparently he was wrong.

Blaine managed to stifle yet another sob as he stood up purposefully and strode towards the closet doors in the corner. He'd promised Kurt he would try his hardest to win, and he decided he'd make good on that. And NO more crying. He was tougher than that. He would never surrender - he was strong. Just like Coop. _Big, old, strong Coop... _

He shuffled over and hesitantly tugged open the carved, wooden door. A flash of panic surged through him as he realized he hadn't packed anything with him, hadn't even brought a keepsake from home. But as soon as the doors opened, he realized he hadn't needed to.

The inside of the room was greatly contrasting from the room it was attached to in the sense that his temporary bedroom was furnished with a classic, cozy theme; his 'closet seemed to be cloaked in darkness - nearly the entire room was black.

It was a relatively large closet, with a multitude of panels and keyboards attached to the walls, each glowing dimly with words speckled across them. Right in the center hung a huge black curtain, enclosing what Blaine presumed was the supply of clothing.

"Wow..." Blaine breathed, taking in the sight.

He stepped in cautiously, eyes flicking from one set of buttons to the next. After a quick scan of the room, he finally pieced together a vague understanding of how this new technology operated. With presses to a few buttons, the elusive black curtain parted, revealing his exact wardrobe choices hanging from a gleaming silver bar. A miniscule and grave smile settled on his lips for a moment, before he sighed resignedly and began to get ready for this new and incredibly terrifying day.

* * *

Blaine closed the door being him softly. He straightened up, fixed his signature bowtie, and began a timid walk towards the dining area. A schedule had been posted, presumably by Effie, announcing the times meals occurred. Though he'd felt nauseous this whole trip, he'd decided he needed the nourishment and opted for attending.

"Oh, there you are! Oh dear me, we thought you'd never arrive." Effie appeared so suddenly Blaine couldn't help but flinch. She didn't appear to notice. Effie instead began stepping in sync with him, continuing with, "Santana and Haymitch are already eating." His only response was a small nod of the head. Effie beamed and, hoisting up her ruffled hot pink gown, sped up her pace while beckoning Blaine to catch up. She was chattering excitedly the whole way, but he tuned out as soon as she mentioned "nail care".

Blaine zoned back in just as they entered the dining room, managing to hear Effie end her rant with, "...the frivolity of it all!"

"We're here," he interrupted her as politely as he could manage at such an early hour, gesturing toward the sign reading, _"Breakfast served from 6:00-9:00."_ She bristled as soon as she heard his voice cutting into her chatter, but relaxed considerably as she processed what he'd said.

"Thank you little lad," she said patting the top of Blaine's head with a manicured hand and flouncing away, her impeccably styled hair nearly whipping him in the face as she departed. Blaine cursed his height, running a stressed hand through his tousled glossy-black curls, before focusing on the room in front of him.

In the center of the room sat an insanely long table that seemed to stretch for miles. Even more impressively were the items packed tightly on its surface. Atop the table was an enormous array of more food than Blaine had ever seen. And not just typical, run-of-the-mill breakfast items. There were choices from every single District, even Capitol food, all prepared finely, laying our right in front of him.

He could choose anything, eat anything, and as much as he wanted. He no longer had to worry about only eating his portion, which used to be so small it barely sustained him for five minutes. Now, he had complete and total freedom.

Blaine took a few more seconds to steady his racing mind, rationalizing that he had to pace himself, no matter how much his stomach pleaded with his logic. He stumbled forward, grabbing a sparkling silver plate as he passed a stack.

Blaine decided to only take the things he recognized. By the time he reached the end of the display, his large plate was piled high with fried eggs, strips of dried meat, a large raisin pastry, and those strange fried vegetables they served at school every day.

Blaine looked up from his loaded plate, noticing at once a large mahogany table he hadn't been able to see from his position at the other end of the room. Seated were Haymitch, Effie, and Santana, all of whom were staring at him. One set of eyes peered expectantly up at him, urging him to come and sit down in a free chair. Another face was sneering up at him, judging his every move. The last seemed to look right through him; their eyes were dim, their gaze impassive.

Blaine quietly walked over and sat, unobtrusively, in a baroque chair a seat away from Santana. He glanced nervously at her, but her gaze remained steady at her mushed oats as she twirled her spoon through them.

"So... how did you guys all sleep?" Effie inquired with far too much enthusiasm. "Sleep well? I know I did. Those beds are one-hundred percent flamingo feather." She pressed her lips together in a creepy smile, and whispered conspiratorially, "I was told all the furniture was imported from overseas. What that means - well, I have no idea, really... Anyway, how was your guys' night?"

Effie's eyes locked on Santana. "How about you girlie, have a nice - " That was a far as Effie got before Santana plunged her fork into the table, dangerously close to Effie's hand. Blaine's eyes widened, his triangular eyebrows reaching his hairline. Haymitch merely snorted, his eyes flickering. Effie nearly fainted, muttering, "My word, girl, don't you dare tr - " before being cut off once more, this time by Santana's lazy yet passionate drawling voice.

"Don't you ever call me 'girlie' again, you preppy Capitol bitch." Santana leered at Effie, obviously ready to satirize the helpless woman to tears. "Now I know all about your type. You've only ever seen the real world when you come visit our measly little District, right? With all the 'poor little miners' who walk around dressed in soot-stained clothes and with frown lines and burns and scars and **OH MY! _The lack of cleanliness_**!" Santana mimicked Effie's peculiar lilting Capitol accent and gesticulated emphatically.

Effie's face was the definition of horror, but Santana plowed on, as though gaining confidence by the impact she was making on Effie. She raged, "Well listen here, Trinket, 'cut I'm going to' teach you a few lessons. The **_Seam's_** lessons. Because I grew up in the dirty nasty coal, hell, I was **born** in it! And I am so much stronger than you'll ever be. So why don't you tell that hideously made up yap of yours to shut the fuck up and stop treading over everyone you consider beneath you!" Santana ended her rant with a huffed out breath and an accomplished snort at Effie's gaping expression.

Blaine could hardly believe what he was witnessing. To tell the truth... he kind of loved Santana right now. Who else would stand up to Effie? But this visceral reaction frightened him as well... what if she were to spaz out at one of the Gamemakers? What happened then?

Santana made a move to stalk out of the room Rachel-Berry-Diva style when Haymitch held up a hand, a silent request for her to return to her seat. She snapped around to tell him off when a knife went whizzing past her throat. Effie was too busy opening and closing her mouth as though imitating a rather gassy fish to notice. Both tributes could only gawk at Haymitch as he pressed his hands together and bowed his head.

"So I got at least one fighter?" He asked rhetorically, staring downward, before turning his gaze to them both. "What're your names again?" he asked.

"Ummm... B-Blaine sir," Blaine stuttered out, eyes wide.

"Santana Lopez, head bitch in town, pleasure to meet you. How's the spirits?" She asked saucily, craning her neck to peer inside his spiked coffee mug.

Haymitch merely smirked at Santana, analyzing her through red-rimmed eyes. "Exquisite. Now I know I've got one fighter." He turned his gaze to Blaine. "You. Do you have any kind of special talent?"

Blaine gulped, before speaking in a shaky voice, "No, n-no, not-t really, j-just a stutter. I'm n-not really of-f m-much u-u-use, I-I - " Before he could finish, Haymitch was winding back and directing yet another knife, but this time at Blaine, just a mere two centimeters to the left of his temple. Blaine shot his hand out of instinct and somehow managed to grasp the leathery brown handle. He stared at the knife in his hand disbelievingly, even as the two others looked on, impressed.

"Haymitch said, "Okay, so far, I got a girl with a pesky temper and a shy boy with excellent reflexes. Give me more." Haymitch commanded.

Santana immediately piped up. "I'm not even going to try to be modest. I'm strong, in good shape. I can do more flips in a row than the amount of alcohol you consume each day. I'm one of the most flexible people you could ever meet, I learn quickly, and I hunt. Illegally of course." Santana was fearless. "Oh, and I'm a Class-A bitch." She smirked. "There you have it. All my talents pertinent to the situation. Now Haymitch - have your way with me." She licked her lips promiscuously, her eyes gleaming. Blaine couldn't help but roll his eyes. _To each their own..._

Haymitch looked mildly amused. "Okay then, thank you. Now you. Blaine was it? Well, whatcha' got for me?"

"Ummm..." Blaine started, not able to conjure up anything to say. He really did have low self-esteem, couldn't think of anything good about himself. "I -"

Santana cut him off. "He's pretty strong. And smart too. He just won't say it. And he's really good at climbing things. He's kind of like our resident monkey." She smirked at Blaine, nodding a little with encouragement.

"Is this true, uh... Blaine was it?" Haymitch turned his scrutinizing gaze toward Blaine.

Blaine winced a little. Sure he was relatively muscular, and he got good marks in school. So what? Those didn't really matter, not when he was going to be faced with trained killing machines.

But the comment about the climbing grabbed his attention. It was true. He could climb up pretty much anything stable enough to hold his weight. He never really understood why he was always drawn to the sky. He assumed it was because of his lack of height, that climbing was his way of being taller.

Blaine thought back to those summer days when his limbs would just itch to scale the highest peak he could find. He'd crawl up the crumbling brick wall behind his house and balance on the top. He'd clamber up his house's siding until he reached the roof, where he would sit for hours, sketching faces. And sometimes, when Blaine felt the most daring, he'd sneak over to the big wire fence separating District Twelve from the other Districts with his dad's best leather gloves and boots fastened onto his appendages securely, and he'd scramble up as high as he dared to go, and just stare out at the open wilderness. Occasionally he'd spot some hunters darting through the trees or dragging home the day's catch.

Then, after that horrible day when his dad's life was taken by that fateful mine blast, he hadn't felt the need to do anything. Kurt insisted he come live with them, rather than be sent to the legendary Care House. Blaine, of course, accepted, and settled in with the Hudmels quite easily. But he didn't feel the urge to climb. He couldn't. Not with his father gone, he refused to let himself enjoy life with his father dead.

Blaine refused to do anything of the sort. For a while. Until one day...

_Kurt laughed, and it sounded like a thousand bells chiming. His smile shone brighter than the bright summer sun. Blaine could never compare to such allure, such perfection._

_They were strolling, hand in hand, down the dusty road leading to the center of town. Kurt was filling the silence with his endearing, mindless chatter. Suddenly, Blaine spotted his perfect climbing tree. Still beautiful, leaves swinging daintily in the breeze, flickering in the splashes of sunlight cast by the high noon-time sun. _

_Apparently Kurt noticed it too. "Look! I've always wanted to climb that tree, ever since I was little. But Dad never let me, said I was too short. Well, I just got another growth spurt, let's try this thing out!" Kurt smirked, and race towards the large tree, grasping one of the branches and hoisting himself up._

_"Ha! I knew I could do it." He looked back at Blaine. "Come on! Don't be lame. I know for a fact you are tall enough to climb this, no matter how short you are." Kurt chuckled and began to ascend, disappearing into the thick foliage for a moment. "Blaine!"_

_Blaine looked at his boyfriend's gorgeous face poking out from behind a leafy branch. He thought about his dad, how he knew the man would've wanted him to carry on and live. _

_Blaine wondered if he still knew this tree's limbs by heart, with his eyes closed. He walked up, and reached out his hand, brushing it against the coarse bark. He smiled. Clasping one hand on the spindly branch overhead, and lifting his foot to set it on the first groove in the tree's aging bark, he began to climb..._

Blaine broke himself out of his reverie. Both Santana and Haymitch were giving him strange looks. He realized he must have zoned out for a moment. In his mind he thought, _"God... I've been daydreaming about a friggin' **tree**! What kind of screwed up person **am**_ _I?"_

What he said aloud was, "Um, what?" Ah. The eloquence.

Haymitch shook his head irritably and furrowed his eyebrows. "I said, are you any good at climbing? Keep in mind I expect an honest answer. Lying will only lead to a sooner death." Haymitch spoke slowly, as though addressing a frustrated young child.

Blaine said offensively, with a minimal stutter, "Yes, sir, a-and I'll have you know, I-I am not a petulant-t little kid-d."

Haymitch nodded, before straightening in his seat, quickly. "Okay then. Whatever you say, mister. No more babying."

Their mentor swallowed a large gulp of spirits from a flask he'd retrieved from his left coat pocket. "Now there are a few things you two need to know. I usually don't try very hard on this mentor thing, because the tributes are usually inexperienced kids who die the first minute they're out there. But you, you two show promise."

Haymitch stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Now, I think you two need to realize, I will only instruct you if I think you have a chance. And to have a chance, you need to try. Let it be known that the odds are against you. So you'll probably die." Blaine blanched at this, shocked by Haymitch's bluntness.

Haymitch continued, "Now I will do my best to prepare you. But once you're in the arena, you two are on your own. I have a lot to teach you, so you guys better learn fast.

"Number one: do everything I say, when I tell you to do it. If you don't follow this rule, you'll both be dead far sooner than you'd like.

"Number two: expect the worst. Shit happens. And you need to be ready for it. Stay on your toes. Keep your eyes open. Watch everything.

"And lastly number three." Haymitch downed a swig of alcohol, before looking them both with swimming eyes and saying dramatically, "Don't die. Dying is bad."

Blaine blinked a few times at Haymitch's speech. Santana merely raised one eyebrow disbelievingly.

Haymitch rolled his head back and forth a few times before announcing, "You two will have lessons with me after breakfast. Now I need to ask - do you want to be coached separately, or with one another. Both have their advantages. I need to know, do you guys trust one another?"

Surprisingly, it was Santana who spoke up first. "You can coach us together, Mitch. I'm sure the fairy will keep up with me."

The smile on her face canceled out the offensive slur, and Blaine didn't even think to take it personally.

"It's okay w-with m-me too," Blaine spoke carefully, looking steadily at Santana. A twitch of a smile appeared on her face, and he mirrored it.

"Alright then." Haymitch clapped his hands together twice, twisting his chair around. "I'll see you two in a little bit. Now, if will you both excuse me," Haymitch slurred, before he rushed to the nearest restroom and slammed the door behind him. The resulting bang echoed through the cavernous room.

The two tributes ignored the disgusting sounds of Haymitch's retching reverberating from the closed door. They instead turned to face each other.

Santana raised three fingers to her lips, kissed them, and held them up in the air. "Let's do this, B," She spoke heavily, eyes staring intently at him.

Blaine returned the motion, a skewed grin blossoming on his face. "Until death d-do us part," he whispered gravely, holding her gaze and touching his fingers to hers.

She smirked at him, and made a move to stand up.

Suddenly, the completely forgotten party rose up in her seat. Effie spoke haughtily, "Why I never! '_Dying is bad'_? What kind of encouraging speech is **that**? Why, I must have a chat with this man!"

* * *

**A/N: Yurp. So, review, if possible? I reeeeally love feedback. Reviewing is sooo easy, just click on the little box below. Keep in mind, I have anonymous reviews set for ON, so all you people without an account? GIVE ME YOUR HEADTHOUGHTS!**

**Next chapter will be up soon... if I get more than one review. Otherwise, I'll take my own sweet time on it. :)**

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**Okay, sorry for irritating the Glee-Fandom, byyyyyye!**


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